


As You Wish

by UtterFandomTrash



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-28 04:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6315442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UtterFandomTrash/pseuds/UtterFandomTrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A love story. Rated for language and later content (primarily emotional) (spoilers!). No planned game spoilers.</p>
<p>"All she'd done was walk in his door, and he fell in love instantly."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There Is a Shortage of Perfect Breasts in This World

**Author's Note:**

> Our story begins long before Frisk finds the Underground, and things at this time are a bit…different. Among other things, our favorite flamin' bartender is much chattier than in-game. Why, you ask? Ah, my child, fear not. All will be revealed in the fullness of time. For now, let us look back to an earlier time, a simpler time…perhaps, as we shall see, a much happier time.

The bar was hopping that evening. Lesser Dog was in fine form, having lost six games of Go Fish in less than an hour and going through two bowls of water every game. Dogamy and Dogaressa were smushed together on the same side of their usual table, alternating between practicing their nose-nuzzling and howling (literally) with laughter at the antics of Greater Dog. Even Sans had stopped in and actually paid some of his tab for once in his life. He sat at the end of the bar now, watching the other occupants with his usual skeletal grin and calling out the occasional snarky pun.

In short, it was just another night in Snowdin. The wind was cold outside, the snow was falling extra thickly, and any monster afraid of the dark was huddled carefully around any light they could find. But inside Grillby's, the atmosphere was warm enough to combat the cold of both the snow and any lonely heart.

Grillby himself leaned back against the wall, arms folded, his small smile obscured by the light of his flames. He treasured these rare moments of peace. In a few minutes, he knew, he would be called back to duty, and he likely wouldn't see another moment of rest until the end of the night. But for now, he could sit back, watch the antics of the customers, and simply enjoy the warm, friendly atmosphere.

That warmth was briefly interrupted when the door opened, bringing a rush of cold air with it. However, oddly enough, it wasn't nearly as cold as it normally was when someone came in. In fact, Grillby could almost swear he felt a rush of heat tickle his cheek, following closely on the heels of the cold air.

It didn't take him long to see why.

He wasn't sure how he'd missed it at first. Bright blue flames contrasted sharply with the dark wood paneling of the wall and the deep black of the night outside. Those flames formed a slim, feminine shape, which was clad in a little black dress that hugged her curves just right. Aquamarine fingers grasped the door, long and graceful as a pianist's. And when she closed the door and turned to face the room properly, her _eyes_ …they reminded him of the paintings he'd seen of summer days on the surface. They were that deep, calm blue of the sky, full of warmth and sprinkled with playfulness.

In that moment, he swore time slowed down and that stupid human song – what was it called? "Let's Get It On"? – started playing in the background. Maybe it was a moment, maybe it was an hour. He never was sure. All he knew was that he had to blink several times and force himself back to reality as she strode up to the bar, an adorably hesitant smile on her face.

That little smile grew, just enough to be noticeable, when she reached the bar. "H-hi," she said. "I was told this was a good place for a drink?"

Her voice was soft, sweet, and a little unsure, but behind the hesitancy was the crackle of real power. He hadn't heard fire like that in another monster since his grandfather had died. This girl was far more than just a pretty face, it seemed. To say he was intrigued would be an understatement.

Grillby realized he'd been silent for just a bit too long after her question. If he'd had skin, he would have nearly jumped out of it as he shoved himself away from the wall and moved up to stand closer to the bar – and to her. "I'd say you heard right," he said, much more smoothly than he'd moved. "Best place in town." _Only place in town._ "What can I get for ya?"

She brought her hands to her lips in a prayer-like gesture as she thought. "I don't know," she said at last. "What do you recommend?"

Asking Grillby for drink recommendations was like asking an interior decorator what color to paint your kitchen. He could talk for hours about matching liquor to personality types and general taste preferences, and that was without getting him sidetracked by the various merits of his own stock. But tonight was different. As soon as she asked, he knew exactly what answer to give her.

He gave her a smile and couldn't resist adding a wink. "Take a seat and hold that thought a minute," he said.

Thankfully, he still had some cachaça left. The stuff was hard to come by since he had yet to perfect distilling it himself and had to rely on what drifted his way from the humans. But this would be worth it, he told himself as he snagged his ingredients. It would absolutely be worth it.

The glass he set in front of her seemed to be filled with nothing but milk with a sprinkling of cinnamon on top. He would have been truly impressed if she'd known what it was, but the perplexed look she gave him let him show off a bit. Either way, he considered it a win.

"Most people call this Jaguar's Milk," he explained as she carefully wrapped her hands around the glass. "I call it chocolate milk for grown-ups, but that's a bit more of a mouthful."

She glanced from the drink to him, confusion plain on her face. "Chocolate milk?" she asked. "It looks white."

Grillby smiled at her as he picked up an abandoned glass next to Sans and started wiping it out. "Just trust me," he said.

The girl kept puzzled eyes on him a bit longer, but soon enough, she shrugged and turned her attention to her drink. He watched her expression out of the corner of his eye as she turned the glass this way and that, admiring it or perhaps inspecting it. His hands shook slightly in – what? Anticipation? Fear? Excitement? He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this nervous.

"She's got you pretty _rattled_ , huh?" Sans murmured beside him, startling him more than he'd care to admit.

Grillby took his eyes off the girl long enough to glare at Sans. "This is not the time for your bad skeleton puns," he hissed.

Sans just grinned at him, an amused light in his eyes. "Hey," he said, "I'm not blamin' ya. I'll admit she's _smokin'_."

Grillby scowled at Sans, but motion at the corner of his eye caught his attention. Curiosity finally seemed to have won out over fear of the unknown; the blue girl was bringing the glass to her lips. The motion was well-practiced, elegant, graceful – even the way she moved was fascinating to him. Sans may have been annoying, but he had one thing right. Grillby definitely had it bad for this girl.

Her expression was cautious as she took her first sip, but the way her eyes slowly lit up as the flavors hit her tongue was worth every second of his apprehension. "It's good!" she exclaimed. "I-I mean, I expected it to be good, but this-!"

Grillby smiled at her and shrugged modestly. "I had a feeling you'd like it," he said. Inside, though, he was practically dancing with delight. It was always satisfying to give someone a new favorite drink, but this time it was something special.

She was grinning at him, her whole face shining with delight. "I love it!" she gushed. "It's sweet, but it's…" She trailed off, glancing at the ceiling in search of the word she wanted. "Unexpected," she decided. "It's sweet, but it's unexpected. In a good way."

_So it really does fit you,_ he thought. "Well, I'm glad you're enjoying it," he said, smiling. "Drink up. It's on the house."

"Really?" She seemed surprised, almost shocked. "A-are you sure?"

Grillby shrugged, hoping the rush of heat in his face wasn't glaringly obvious. "You're new around here, right? Consider it a 'welcome to Snowdin' present."

The smile she gave him was worth more than all the gold in the Underground. "Thank you!" she exclaimed. "Thank you so much!"

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Even as he saw to everyone else, his mind was constantly returning to the girl burning cool and bright toward the end of the bar. He chattered and laughed and traded insults with his regulars just like any other night, but something had changed. The moment she had walked in the room, something indefinable but foundational had shifted. Everything about her was utterly fascinating to him, and he barely knew the first thing about her.

Close to closing time, when the lights burned low and most people had gone home for the night, Grillby finally found another moment to breathe. He leaned his elbows on the bar and propped his chin in one hand, looking out over the mostly-empty tables. The only ones left were Sans, who was finishing off his last bottle of ketchup, and Lesser Dog, who had found a Go Fish companion in – who else – the new girl. She seemed to be letting him win most of the time, and the dog couldn't have been happier. His head was brushing the ceiling as if the girl had given him the best petting of his life, and Grillby couldn't help but wonder how he could see his cards. Without thinking, he let out a small, happy sigh.

 "You really do have the _hots_ for her, huh?"

Sans's soft comment startled Grillby out of his reverie; only then did he realize he'd been staring at the new girl. _Dammit,_ he thought. _You're too observant._

"So is this your new shtick?" he asked, taking his head out of his hand and half-turning to face Sans squarely. "Bad fire puns instead of bad skeleton puns?"

Sans gave him a smirk over the top of his bottle. "I'm an equal-opportunity punnoisseur," he said, unruffled. "And _you_ -" he pointed at Grillby with his free hand- "are avoiding my question."

Grillby scowled, but he knew there was no escaping Sans once he had someone in his sights. Giving in, he let out a long sigh that made a heat shimmer spring up in front of him. "I don't even know her," he mumbled, staring down at the bar and so missing the triumphant gleam in Sans's eye. "I don't even know her _name_ , but…"

"No one knows her," Sans said in that irritating matter-of-fact way he had. "She just moved here."

Grillby shot Sans a dirty look, which the skeleton studiously ignored in favor of downing the last of his ketchup. "I hope you realize how unhelpful you are," he said irritably.

"Of course." With that, Sans hopped down off his stool, leaving behind his empty bottle and a small handful of gold. "Later," he said as he sauntered away.

Grillby sighed and shook his head, but he was smiling as he scooped up Sans's offering. "Are you ever going to pay off your tab?" he called after him.

Sans paused at the door and turned back to give him the cheekiest grin he'd ever seen. "I'll make that your wedding present," he said with a wink and a pointed glance at the new girl.

Grillby's glasses started smoldering just slightly with the rush of heat the comment brought to his face. " _Dammit, Sans!_ " he yelled as the skeleton cackled and shut the door behind him.

He pulled off his glasses with a scowl, more to let them cool down than because they needed cleaned, which he pretended to do. The clock struck closing as he did, which brought a yelp from Lesser Dog. With his back to the room, all Grillby heard was the usual thuds of the canine bounding off. There were a few extra as he wrangled his wayward head back to a reasonable height, and Grillby was sure he would have to replace a light fixture or two. But the door closed soon, and then… _silence._ Blessed, blissful silence.

Silence that was quickly broken by a soft feminine voice. "Pyrope was right," the new girl said. "This is a good place for a drink."

Grillby replaced his glasses as he turned to face her, proud of how little his hand shook. She was still sitting at Lesser Dog's table, a smile on her face, one hand cupping her chin in a mirror of the way Grillby had been standing not a few minutes before.

He offered her a smile of his own and leaned one hip against the bar, wiping out yet another glass as he spoke. "Well, welcome to Snowdin," he said. "I'm glad we could show you a good time. Does that mean we'll be seeing you again?"

The question slipped out before he could stop it, and he was already cursing his traitorous tongue when she laughed. It wasn't a full-on belly laugh, more of a shy giggle, but it was sweeter to his ears than any music could ever be. "I suppose I could force myself to come back," she said, sliding down from her chair to leave with a smile in her voice. "Good drinks, good crowd, good times…"

She paused when she reached the door and glanced over her shoulder. It wasn't easy to tell from the other end of the room, but he could swear she was smirking. "And a good-looking bartender who knows his liquors."

That tiny giggle echoed in his ears for hours after she shut the door. It was crazy, he decided, pondering it all as he cleaned up, absolute insanity. She had only come in for a drink. She was just some monster who'd happened to find his bar. He wasn't one to believe in fate. This all had to be a coincidence.

And yet.

Whether it was coincidence, fate, or something else entirely that had led her there, she'd come. Now he couldn't get her out of his head. She was gorgeous, she was sweet, and she'd shown more patience with Lesser Dog than he'd ever seen anyone do before. And he still hadn't asked her name.

All she'd done was walk in his door, and he fell in love instantly.


	2. Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya.

Grillby swore the following week lasted at least a month. Every night, he found himself keeping an eye on the door, hoping she would walk through it. Every night, he was obscurely disappointed when she wasn't there. Oh, sure, he still did his job and did it well, but it wasn't the same. _He_ wasn't the same, not since she showed up.

It got to the point where even Red noticed Grillby's distraction. The little bird glanced at him sideways one night, a troubled look on his face. "Hey," he said, "you okay, man?"

Grillby glanced up briefly, but the cocktail he was mixing quickly demanded his attention. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Red tapped the bar thoughtfully, his feathers soundless on the wood. "I dunno," he said. "You just seem…off. Like you're thinkin' about somethin' heavy."

 _Hardly,_ he thought, amused despite himself. "It's nothing like that," he assured his friend, sliding the drink to its recipient and moving on to the next order. "I'm fine, really."

Red shrugged and turned back to the conversation he'd been having with Big Mouth, but Grillby couldn't help glancing over at Sans, who sat, as always, at the other far end of the bar. He seemed to be wearing a knowing smile – but then again, Sans always seemed to be smiling. It was hard to tell sometimes _what_ he was thinking.

 _Probably concocting more bad puns_ , Grillby thought with a sigh as he started in on the next order. _That's all you do the more you drink, isn't it?_

The sound of the door opening clicked over the conversations and laughter of the bar's inhabitants, bringing with it the usual rush of cold air, though tempered with a familiar heat. Facing the back counter, Grillby smiled to himself. _You're back._

That small smile still hadn't quite left his face when he turned around to find _her_ perched on a stool with her elbows propped on the bar and her chin in her hands. She wasn't wearing that little black dress this time, but her white tank top showed off a pair of lean arms and not a little bit of _very_ nice chest. Her lips were curled into the tiniest smile, and it was so utterly adorable he was hard-pressed to not melt right then and there.

Instead of melting, he slid the drink he'd been working on to the bunny who'd ordered it and leaned his elbows on the bar across from _her_. "And what'll be your poison tonight, m'lady?" he asked, his own smile settling into a smirk.

For some reason, she got a wicked gleam in her summer-blue eyes at the question. "Whiskey," she purred. "Straight up."

He raised his eyebrows but straightened obediently. "As you wish. Not very ladylike," he commented as he moved to fetch the appropriate glass and bottle.

She lifted one shoulder in a demure half-shrug. "What can I say?" she replied. "I like defying expectations."

He chuckled as he measured out her drink. "Well, you've certainly succeeded," he assured her. He closed the bottle and slid the glass in front of her, still speaking as he put away the bottle and picked up an empty glass to start cleaning. "You seem more decisive tonight, at least. Settling in well?"

The glass was already halfway to her lips before he finished speaking, and she smiled around her drink. "I suppose so, yeah. Snowdin is very different from Hotland, so it's taking some getting used to."

"So you're from Hotland? What the hell brought you all the way out to this little iceberg?" Grillby asked, his light tone softening the harsh words.

She glanced down into her glass and smirked, but somehow, it didn't seem like she put much feeling into it. "I guess I just…needed a change of pace," she said, so softly he almost didn't hear.

 _Dammit. Touched a nerve._ His knee-jerk reaction was to apologize, but he'd been patrons' shoulder to cry on long enough to know pointing it out would just make it worse. Thus, he simply moved on with a small chuckle. "Well, you'll definitely find that here," he said. "I've only been to Hotland once myself, but it's sure not just the temperature that's different."

"Yeah." She was meeting his eyes again, and he could swear there was gratitude in hers. Almost without conscious intention, he found himself smiling back. It was just so _easy._ He'd heard of people having contagious smiles, but hers was truly something else.

"Oi!" Sans hollered from the corner, clearly deep in his second bottle of ketchup. "As amusing as it is watching you flirt, I'm not getting' any younger!"

Grillby slowly turned a single raised eyebrow at Sans, quickly seeing the light blue flush in his cheeks – and ignoring the bit of extra heat in his own face. "Please," he said, nodding a farewell to the new girl (who seemed highly amused) before making his way down to Sans, snagging another bottle of ketchup on the way. "It's not like you're a paying customer."

"I'm gonna settle my tab!" Sans protested hotly. "I toldja! It's gonna be your wedding present!"

"Uh-huuuuuh." He set the bottle down and watched half its contents promptly disappear into Sans's mouth. "Somehow I doubt that."

"'S true. Mark my words."

"I'll be sure to do that."

As usual, the rest of the night saw Grillby trotting to and fro, barely able to chat with anyone, let alone hold a conversation. He was always afraid she would leave before he could catch her again, which was silly, he told himself. Clearly she liked it there. She'd probably be back. Fearing otherwise was ridiculous.

But if he could just get her _name_!

Finally, the bulk of the crowd was gone and cleaned up after, and mercifully, she was still there. The usual late-night stragglers were still nestled in their spots, and it seemed she was shaping up to be one of them. Rather than playing cards with Lesser Dog, though, this time she was firmly established at the bar, drink at her right hand and notebook at her left.

Grillby had tried to sneak glances at it several times as he'd passed that night, but reading upside down was not his forte. Now, though, he was able to pause a bit away from her, close enough to talk but far enough to respect her space as she scribbled intently. Her pencil flew across the page in constant mesmerizing motion; apparently she'd hit a wellspring of inspiration or clarity or whatever it was she needed for whatever she was writing. The hypnotic scratch of graphite on paper snaked softly through the air, barely audible over the handful of murmured conversations still being held over the remnants of drinks.

He wasn't sure how long he leaned there on the bar, watching her, but eventually her pencil slowed, then stopped, and she brought it to her mouth in thought. "Stumped?" he piped up softly. She jumped a bit, startled, and her eyes immediately darted from the page to him. "Sorry," he said, "didn't mean to scare ya."

She gave him a little smile. "It's okay," she assured him, matching his quiet tone. "I just get on a roll and I get really caught up, you know?"

"I understand," Grillby said, even though he wasn't quite sure he did.

The amusement on her face made him suspect she knew he was talking out of his rear. All she said, though, was: "I bet you do."

Feeling distinctly discomfited, he opted to change the subject. "You know," he remarked, somehow succeeding in sounding casual, "I never did manage to catch your name."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, the amusement on her face becoming genuine surprise. She jumped slightly in her shock, one hand coming up to briefly cover her mouth. "I'm sorry!" she continued, her tone caught between an apology and laughing at herself. "My name's Keiko."

 _Keiko._ He rolled the name around, fixing it with the image of this woman he couldn't bring himself to call a stranger. "That's a pretty name," he said with a smile. "It suits you. "

The blue flames of her face flared brighter as she glanced down and away, and a thrill of mixed triumph and adoration shot through him. It felt good to be the one causing the blushing this time, and besides, she was about ten different kinds of cute when she got flustered like that. _I guess clichés exist for a reason,_ Grillby thought, his smile becoming a grin. _Sometimes they actually work._

Keiko composed herself quickly, clearing her throat, though her face was still burning hotter than normal. "You don't have to look so triumphant," she said. "That line is so overused."

Grillby shrugged, unconcerned. "It's true, though. It's a pretty name. You're a pretty girl. And it worked, too."

She huffed at him, but it was clear she was fighting a smile. "I didn't say that," she retorted.

"Yes you did."

"Nope. Never said that."

"Not with words."

"So what, you're a telepath now?"

She was smirking like she'd won, a light of challenge in her summer-blue eyes. But he simply chuckled. "No," he assured her. "I just know how to read people. And you're an open book."

She raised her eyebrows at that. "Really," she said, a teasing edge to the doubt in her voice.

He nodded solemnly. "Really."

"Hmmm.…" A smile flirted with the corners of her mouth. Before she could say anything else, the clock struck closing, sending the Lesser Dog scurrying from his table with many a yip and yelp. His antics got a laugh out of Keiko; the melodic sound bounced brightly around the now-empty room. "Is he always like that?" she asked as the door closed behind the last departing patron.

Grillby smiled and shook his head fondly, reaching for the cleaning rag under the counter. "Lesser Dog? Pretty much," he replied as he began wiping down the bar. "He's very excitable."

Keiko smiled. "He's precious," she murmured. Gathering her things, she hopped down from her stool. "Guess I'll get out of your hair now."

"Oh, you're not a bother," he reassured her. _Trust me,_ he added privately. Truth be told, he'd be happy to sit down next to her and talk with her all night. The way she laughed, her quick wit, the way her words took on an almost songlike quality when she was amused…it was mesmerizing. _She_ was mesmerizing. Honestly, Grillby was slightly disgusted with the ridiculous sappiness of his own thinking. Unfortunately for him, she'd flipped his world around the moment she'd walked into his pub, and for whatever reason, he had no desire to find his way right-side up again.

"…anywhere else?"

Grillby forced himself back to reality with a flood of embarrassment as he realized he'd been lost in thought. "Sorry," he said, "what was that?"

He could swear there was a faint smirk on her lips, and he hoped desperately that she wouldn't call him out on his daydreaming. Thankfully, she simply repeated herself: "I'm curious. Do you ever actually go anywhere else?"

"Oh." He chuckled, a little amused, mostly self-deprecating. "Yeah, believe it or not. Just not often. The late nights make it tricky, you know?"

Keiko nodded. "I get that." She tucked her pencil into the binding of her notebook and turned to leave, her smile still lingering. "Well, maybe we'll catch each other out and about sometime."

The cold air she let in when she opened the door did absolutely nothing to cool the warmth in Grillby's chest. "I hope so," he replied, almost to himself, as the door closed behind her.

_Hot damn. Take me now, I think I'm in love._

_You think?_ whispered a snarky voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like a certain skeleton.

 _Shut up,_ he told the voice. One thing he knew for sure: he was going to be seeing a lot more of Snowdin in daylight than he had for a long time.


End file.
